Enemy Death
by ConcreteCanvas
Summary: Madge Undersee is described as a quiet, shy and easily offended character, but Madge wants to be heard. Madge's story is here, written down in her own words about her true thoughts, secrets, lovers, feelings and experiences. The whole story, full of death, tears, life, smiles, words, tragedy and love. This is Madge's story.
1. Reaping Dreams

My ragged doll sits there. Stares at me. In the moonlight, it's multicoloured button eyes focus steadily on me. One is near falling off. It's bare, wearing nothing and has no hair at all. A naked body with a bald head. Only those button eyes.

A white blur distracts me and it attacks the button eyes, digging it's teeth into the doll's arm. Coraline, my fluffy ball of white. She hisses one last time at my worthless doll I seem to always keep, and jumps onto the side of my bed. I realize I'm sitting up. I've been thinking about that doll for so long, I forgot about sleeping. My eyes twitch, and fall as heavy as metal and shut me out of reality.

In my dreams, I hear myself whispering,

"No…please, not me…No," I am surrounded by people, hearing the voices loud and clear in my head, continuously and desperately murmuring to themselves to persuade themselves it's not them. But it's got to be one of them.

My vision blurred, as a dream is, I can only hear. I hear the footsteps as Effie Trinket walks towards the bowls and snatches up a piece of paper. The unfolding is sonorous. I listen to Effie's lips parting to say the name. Say it. Say the name.

"Katniss Everdeen," Effie whispers. But the whisper is repeating. Again and again. My bones have not relaxed. My bones have stiffened. The whisper of my friend's name is crisp and clear, screeching in my ear.

I can't save her.

She's been my friend for almost forever. But I won't save her. I can't. I stumble and trip over the girl next to me's expensive, mint green dress. She gasps and I fall to the ground.

Then I wake up, and breathe a sigh of relief. It's not real. It'll never happen. My mother, the lovely Nadia Undersee will know the answer. She knows things, unlike my father, the Mayor of District Twelve, Len Undersee. My father is too down to earth and is quite unentertaining, but is loving at heart. I, Madge Undersee just seems to hang around the house, not knowing what to do, not knowing how to speak, and asking my mother questions about everything. I am a great pianist, as my parents say, and I just love listening to music.

My mother steps in, and realizes I am awake. Absolutely awake in fact. It would be shocking if someone was still sound asleep before the day of the reaping. Where your fate could be announced. Where you could know your life is over. Where you could fight in the Hunger games and know the whole time you would never survive.

I couldn't imagine my name being picked out of the draw. I just couldn't, but I kept on fearing that it would, because it was possible. My name was in there once, and I had only a slim chance, but a slim chance is still a chance.

My mother helps me get dressed. She does my hair in a neat, braided bun. My blond hair is thin and my eyes are faded blue. My skin is pale. I haven't been outside as much as others. They have to work so hard to survive, while I lie in this luxury in being the mayor's daughter. My mother brings in an expensive looking white dress, which hangs down to just to hide my knees. The upper half of the dress is simple, then there is the lace collar that spreads to cover my shoulders and my collarbone. The lace runs all the way down my back and stops where the skirt begins, so that lace covers my back and silky material covers my front. I feel a bit exposed, but I guess people will be expecting the exact thing from the mayor's wealthy daughter.

Coraline, my cat with a squashed face but a lovable personality, jumps into my arms and I carry her downstairs to the kitchen. The light is flickering on and off, annoying Coraline and causing her to hiss. My mother makes my breakfast and I eat, tiny bites at a time. The reaping is today. The reaping is today. The reaping is today.

And I'm dressing up for it, just incase I get sent to the Capitol, into the arena where I have to fight 23 other tributes.

Every year, the country of Panem holds something called the 'Hunger Games'. A boy and a girl is picked from each district. They are called the 'tributes' of the district. No one wants to be them. They are thrown into an arena to fight against one another. The last one surviving wins the games. It is sickening, this idea, but it is right. As my father says. The reason of this terrible event is that there used to be thirteen districts altogether. District thirteen was rebellious and brave, and decided to take a step forward and tell the capitol their opinions. As a result, their district was destroyed. Nothing, nothing at all, was left except for their land.

As a punishment, the Hunger Games were held. The capitol believes this is the way to show us that they're in charge, that they are the ones in control and that they can never be taken down by any rebellious people having an urge to cross the line.

Show respect to the Capitol, they say.

I let these thoughts run through my mind. I always have this question that I ask myself, that I never answer. Do I believe the Capitol is trying to help us? Do I think that they are good, or do I think they're evil?

Both my parents believe that President Snow, President of Panem, is a good man. How come I can't just take their path and believe that too? Make it my opinion?

I still can't answer it, so I shouldn't.

When everything is set, I hear the doorbell ring. My father on the phone and my mother complaining about no more strawberries. I guess I'm the only one free to answer the door. I stand up and head towards the door. My hand clasps around the door handle and swings it open. Katniss. Katniss Everdeen.


	2. The Capitol's Game

They stand awkwardly, facing each other and not smiling. The girl at the door is a tiny bit shorter than the girl holding the strawberries, who seems to be standing next to a tall boy wearing a plain blue shirt with his hands in his pockets. The girl holding the strawberries wears a brown leather hunting jacket, pants and boots. Her brown hair is in a side plait, which is very beautiful and a signature hairstyle for the girl. The girl at the door is wearing an expensive white dress with a beautiful lace collar. Her soft and shiny blond hair was placed into a neat plaited bun with a pink ribbon. This is reaping clothes.

"Pretty dress," says the boy with his hands still in his pockets. The girl at the door looks at him, long and hard trying to figure out if he is teasing her or actually complimenting her. She forces herself to smile. The smile is too exaggerated.

"Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?" she says through gritted teeth, angrily but with a teasing tone.

The boy cocks his head to the side this time, wondering if she meant what she said, or if she was just saying that to mess with him. The boys' eyes rivet toward a circular pin attached to her dress, just above her breast. It has a bird in flight inside it, but the thing is, it is real gold.

"You won't be going to the capitol," says the boy in a smooth voice. "What can you have? Five entries? I had six when I was just twelve years old."

"That's not her fault," the girl holding the strawberries says warningly at the boy.

"No, it's no one's fault. Just the way it is," the boy says, not taking his eyes off the blond haired girl, with a look of jealousy. The blond girl presses the money for the strawberries into the palm of the other girl's hand and they wish each other good luck for the reaping in the afternoon.

The door closes. The brunette and the tall boy walk away towards the Seam.

Poor Katniss. She lives in that terrible house, with her terrible cat. Her terrible wealth causes her to have put her name inside the pool about twenty times approximately. Gale has already complained to me about how he has to put his name in forty-two times. Me? I only have to put in my name five times, because when you are twelve, and eligible for the reaping, you have to put your name in once. Then when you're thirteen, twice. It goes on like that. When you turn 18, which is Gale's age, you have to enter your name at least seven times. The reason I say _at least_ seven times, is because you can enter it more than that for more tesserae, which is oil and grain. One tessera is enough for a whole years worth of food for one person. I never had to enter my name more than needed, because I'm wealthy. People envy me for it, but Katniss was right. It's not my fault.

I was born into this body. That's not my fault. If I was born into another person's body, it's not my fault either. I was chosen to be me, Madge Undersee, so no one can blame me for that. Except Gale seems to think he can.

Gale is tall, handsome, and a popular boy at school. Loved by many girls. I take no interest in him whatsoever. He's mean and his anger is misdirected. He is angry at me, for being me. He should be angry at the Capitol, for creating the Hunger Games, for making people die, for punishing us for what we didn't do.

Maybe I should be angry at them too, but then what will happen? 'The Mayor's daughter shows her hate towards the Capitol', will change nothing. Nothing can control the Capitol. They've already destroyed District Thirteen, and what happens if we rebel as well? The same thing. We're hopeless. We just have to play the Capitol's game.

At one o'clock, I head towards the square with my mother and father driving me. I don't understand why a vehicle is required; it's only a few blocks away.

The reaping is held here, in this square. It was gloomy and there were grey clouds in the sky, threatening to let out a storm. My father sat with Effie trinket in the three chairs at the back of the stage, which holds two large glass bowls, one for the boys and one for the girls. Effie Trinket is District Twelve's escort, who will pick out the names randomly from the bowls. I'm not sure if it is really random. My father and Effie look nervously at the empty third seat.

I find myself in the midst of many other teenage girls wearing pretty, but probably old and passed down dresses. I feel quite extravagant, compared to all the other girls. I feel their stares directed at me. I pretend I don't notice and I look up towards where Katniss stands. She's been my friend for a long time, since I started school. I was in the same class as her, and we always found ourselves sitting next to each other at lunch, excluded from the other girl groups. We didn't talk much, but we were friends. I worried about her. I worried about me too. Five entries is still more than one.

At exactly two o'clock, my father, the mayor, stand up and heads toward the podium placed at the centre of the stage, and he tells the same story that is told every year. The story of Panem.


	3. The Reaping

The story is depressing and a tad boring. I've heard it four times from my father on stage at a reaping, a few times from my father himself, a few times from my mother, and a few times from teachers at school and many times on TV.

The country, Panem, rose from a place once called North America. North America was later attacked by many disasters. The list of them never end. The result of all these natural disasters and War for land was a new country – Panem. It's Capitol surrounded by thirteen districts, which were each assigned a specific job. District 1 worked for luxury, District two was masonry, District three worked for technology, district four did fishing and so on. District twelve did Mining, and District thirteen worked for graphite and nuclear.

Then came what we called the Dark Days. That was when all the districts united to fight against the Capitol. The Capitol was too strong. Twelve of the districts were defeated. District Thirteen was destroyed. The Capitol wanted to give us a punishment for the uprising, and give us an annual reminder that the Dark Days should never be repeated.

That is how the Hunger Games formed. The twenty four tributes, twelve of both genders, two from each district must be taken into an outdoor arena, which could hold many deadly things. After the tributes have been competing for over a few weeks with camera's filming and people around the whole country watching, the last tribute to be standing alive is the winner of the Hunger Games. The district they represent is showered with delicacies and food, gifts and lovely things from the capitol. The other districts get nothing.

Nothing.

That is the Capitol's Game. Panem's game. The Hunger Games.

At the moment that my father is about to finish off with his last line, a man with long, messy blond hair staggers clumsily onto the stage, tripping over sometimes, and flopped down onto the third, empty chair. He sat in a lazy, drunk position. Drunk he was. My father turned to him and a look of embarrassment added with disappointment grew on his face as he looked at Haymitch Abernathy, a victor of District Twelve. The audience stares at him in disbelief, but manages an awkward applause as he fails an attempt to hug Effie.

The Mayor turned around and the look on his face maintained as he failed to try to drag the attention back to himself as he said,

"It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," My father knows this is being televised, and Haymitch's drunk performance had made District Twelve humiliated all across of Panem. My father continues to speak.

"Please welcome, Effie Trinket, District Twelve's lovely escort," He says this in a monotonous tone, which signals he is not in a very good mood.

Effie's face, however, glows in happiness and excitement. She springs out of her chair and almost skips to the podium at center stage. Her unusual green outfit, her bright pink hair and her nearly white face blanketed in make-up clearly shows she is from the Capitol. It somehow reminds me of watermelon.

"Happy Hunger Games!" she starts off brightly. "And may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!" Again, that line. The odds are most probably in my favour. I look across to Gale. The odds most likely are not in his favour, and not in Katniss' either.

Effie continues to spill out her words of welcome and thanks. Finally, her ridiculously long and unnecessary speech comes to an end. She straightens her blazer and her back, and trots over to the girl's pool.

"Right, well, ladies first!" Effie says with her high-pitched voice.

My fingers crawl into my palm and my fists harden. My neck bends down so all I see is ground. My eyes focus on the ground. My ears listen hard. My teeth bite my lip, hard and painfully.

Effie's fingers crawl around inside the glass bowl of girl's names. She snatches one of the slips up and takes a breath. I can hear her voice everywhere around me.

Once the name is read out, I don't breathe a sigh of relief. It's not me.

It's Katniss' sister.

Primrose Everdeen.


	4. Primrose Everdeen

-x-

Primrose Everdeen is the sweetest little girl I have ever met. He messy blond hair and her lovely pale skin. I wish I was as pretty as her. Whenever I see her, I think, _what a beautiful girl she is going to become. _

I remember when my mother became sick once. I was only 10, and Primrose was six, but she was probably smarter and more calm than I was at that moment. I was scared for my mother. Sicknesses attacked her so regularly, and every time it seemed like she was about to die.

Primrose and her mother arrived at her house. Her mother did most of the work, but Primrose was like her small assistant, always doing the right thing. She never had to ask for her mother to repeat the instructions again, even though her mother talked so silently, it was barely audible.

Primrose was a fantastic listener. She hardly spoke to me though, but once we had a polite chat.

One time, a few weeks ago, she attempted to bring in a cat of hers, and she was welcome to, of course. When I arrived at the door, the cat jumped out of her arms and hissed at me. Primrose turned around and shouted,

"Buttercup, that is not nice! Behave better next time, okay?"

She turned back to me and apoligised. It was the loudest I have ever heard her speak, and that volume was only ever used to talk to the cat. When talking to others, not friends nor family, she would use a sweet, soft and reserved voice.

"Hello," I said.

"Hi," she said. She was holding strawberries in her small and unscarred hands. She was so delicate and protected. Katniss had been scarred nearly everywhere. "Katniss told me your father liked strawberries, and she's tired so I came to do it instead. She doesn't know, so don't tell her. Tell her Gale did it if anyone asks!"she says in a rushed and hushed sentence.

I smile and agree. I take the strawberries and press the notes into her palms.

"Don't let the wind blow it away! Keep it in your pocket," I advise her. She nods, thanks me, places the money in her pocket and leaves, almost running back to the seam.

Katniss told me about Primrose, how she was just a sweetheart and a lovely little sister. I've always considered asking for a sibling when I was young and didn't know how babies appeared. I found it terribly lonely with my mother sick and my father busy. I didn't ever know what to do.

Katniss is probably my only friend. People judge me a expect me to be snobby. No, I don't think I am. I am described as quiet. Like Katniss.

Like Primrose.

-x-

Primrose is now being called out. She was, out of thousands of names, picked. Picked to compete in the dreadful Hunger Games, to be a piece in the Capitol's game. She had only one slip. One. And she was picked.

My bones do not relax. They were as tense as before. How on earth would this be possible, how on earth would Primrose be picked out?

She is only twelve. A delicate body. If she is put next to twenty-three other eighteen year old teenagers fighting to their death, she would certainly be unable to survive.

Me, just standing here, in the crowds. Unable to do anything. The Capitol controls us, and it will never change. The games will continue every year. Now, Primrose is becoming part of it, and we have to sacrifice the sweetest, prettiest little girl in the whole town just to satisfy the Capitol.

I wish I could help her.

I wish I could help.

I wish I could.

I wish.


	5. The Tributes

-x-

The girl in the white blouse and the plain beige skirt with her soft, blond hair in plaited pigtails takes her steps slowly and makes a beeline towards the stage. Her blue eyes see Effie Trinket in her green suit and her crazy pink hair, and Haymitch with his eyes closed and cheeks red. Guards hold her arms behind her back firmly, clear than she's not able to fight back.

In her mind, there are more than a million questions whizzing around. Will I survive? Will I faint? How is my mother reacting? Is Katniss okay? Am I okay? Why is Effie Trinket smiling so largely? How come she looks so scary? When will I finally reach the stage?

Why did I get picked?

She lets her head hang hopelessly. Then she hears something. Her sister. Her sister's voice.

"Prim!" she sounds desperate. Everybody in the square creates a pathway for the brunette to make her way to the young girl. The guards chase her, and they succeed in seizing her but she flails around and the guards fail to keep hold of her.

The young girl starts screaming, tears streaming down her face shouting _no. _The brunette girl in the blue dress takes a glance at her but ignores her and jumps in front of her.

"I volunteer!"she gasps with a hoarse voice. "I volunteer as tribute!" she looks at Effie, Haymitch, and the Mayor with a pleading look in her eyes. The blond girl clings onto her and shakes her head vigorously. Her screaming is filled with a mix of fear, heartbreak, anger and desperation.

Effie hesitates and stutters,

"I'm so sorry, but, um, it's just that, ah – "

The Mayor stands up. A look of faint recognition shows on the surface of his face.

"What's the matter? Let her volunteer," he says calmly.

"Alright then," says Effie, taking a breath. The brunette in the blue dress struggles to get the blond to let go of the skirt of her dress, but a tall boy with brown hair picks her up in his arms and returns her to her mother. He returns to his place in the crowds afterwards.

"And your name is?" Effie asks kindly, putting the microphone under her chin.

"Katniss Everdeen."

-x-

I gasp. The sound of her saying her own name nearly makes me cry. She is my one friend. I am going to lose her. I might.

"I bet my buttons you were her sister!" Effie squeaks followed by a tiny giggle of excitement.

Haymitch stands up and stumbles again. He goes and swings his arm around Katniss' neck clumsily and points at her. "Look at her. Look at this one!" he shouts at the crowd. "I like her!" I feel sorry for her, because his wine breath must be horrible, and right now he is breathing into her face. He gasps for air and finally starts talking again. "Lots of…" he pauses for a second. "spunk!" he staggers backwards and forwards. "More than you!" he directs his finger at the crowd. "More than you! Hah!" He laughs, looking and pointing straight at the camera. I gasp. Is he teasing the Capitol? Impossible! No one would dare to. But then I remember. He's drunk. He staggers forward again and a bit too forward. He plunged off the side and hit the floor hard and everyone gasped. He was unconscious.

"Let's move on!" says Effie with a look of concern at Haymitch being wheeled away on a stretcher. "The gentlemen now!" she says, walking over to the boys bowl of names.

"Peeta Mellark!" Effie announces. Peeta and Katniss. Both were in my class when I was 6. I can't believe it. Peeta is the Bakery boy, the cake decorator, the artist. He has blond hair and lovely blue eyes. He has them trained on Katniss. All the time. Even when I was younger, I have noticed his eyes looking at the same thing. Katniss.

Katniss looks slightly surprised and dizzy, but gets over it as soon as she remembers she's on camera.

Peeta makes his way onto the stage, without any guards. No one volunteers. Hardly any drama.

Effie makes a sound of joy and excitement. She hugs them both and says, "Let us sing the National Anthem of Panem,"

Effie is very strange indeed. People ask, 'Are all Capitol people like her?' I know the answer. They are. Just maybe different coloured skin and different hats and outfits and wigs. I have visited the Capitol a number of times, but haven't in quite a few years now.

I used to love being there. Walking along the walls of huge and exciting and colourful buildings full of things I loved, wanted and never got. But I always believed I would get it. I never understood why, because I knew myself that I would never be able to.

Now I know the Capitol is a filthy place. Taking anyone and placing them in the position where you have to fight against others for your own survival. Brutal. That is a word to describe the Capitol. Brutal, unfair, horrible, terrible and selfish. And frightened. They are frightened of us, the districts, they are afraid the uprising may happen again.

They are afraid that this time, they won't win.

I know that another uprising will happen. I just hope I die of age before it does. People are already starting to express their anger towards the Capitol. Some have said bad things about them and have been rewarded with a whipping. As I said, brutal.

Katniss is being sent into the place where people talk to her one last time before she is sent to the Capitol. I have to be one of them. I have to talk to her one last time. She is my friend. I am her friend. I glance down at my golden pin. Real gold. It's a circle. More like a ring of gold. Inside the ring there is a golden bird in flight. I had it when I was a child, when my mother gave it to me. She gave it to me on my first reaping day, and I wore it every reaping. It was special to me, it was worth very much grain and oil, but I kept it. I never let my father sell it. I always kept it safe.

Katniss is now inside and I am still here, standing. I realise that I need to talk to my father about visiting Katniss. I rush up to my father, on stage.

"I need to see Katniss. I need to see her!" I repeat desperately. My father sees how much I actually want it, need it. He speaks to Effie and she hesitates.

"But the amount of people visiting her are already up to the highest point! We're not allowing anyone else, but…" she glances at me. I look at her and her eyes fall to the floor. My father slips his hands in his pockets. Effie hesitates first, then sighs and nods at my father.

"This way, Madge, darling," she points me in the correct direction through a door on the side of the stage and tells me the directions. The crowds depart and buzz loudly with happiness that they didn't get picket out of the pool.

I enter the room and remember the directions Effie gave me. I arrive at the room. The guards are surprised to see another visitor.

"Madge, ah, the mayors daughter. Of course. You can come in to visit Katniss," I nod politely with a strained smile and sit down on the fancy glass seats and wait for my turn.

I sit. Thinking. What am I going to say to her? I have only been a small part of her life. I should not talk too much. I shouldn't take up too much time. I should give her my thanks, my good luck wishes and all the polite things people say to each other. But we're friends. Maybe I should do something else.

Someone calls my name and opens the door. I smile at the guard and walk into the room.

Katniss seems surprised to see me.

"Madge," she says, nearly inaudible. "have a seat."


	6. Haunted Thoughts

-x-

The ends of my lips twitch at an attempt of a small, sympathetic smile. The look of surprise on her face has faded and she looks directly at me.

My fingers touch the soft seat of the sofa, with its plush cushions and gold lining. Katniss is sitting in a slightly smaller version of mine. Even as the mayor's daughter, I haven't experienced this sort of wealth, cosiness and beauty. The Capitol has everything.

I suddenly remember what I am going to do.

"They let you wear one thing from your district in the arena. One thing to remind you of home. Will you wear this?"

The circular, golden pin that Gale had his eyes on lay in my hand. I uncurl my fingers to show her the pin, and she narrows her eyes at it to observe it.

"Your pin?" She says. She doesn't take her eyes off the pin.

"Here, I'll put it on your dress, alright?" She doesn't answer so I lean over and fix it to her dress. "Promise you'll wear it in the arena, Katniss?" I have to have her wear it, or else I can't trust her to win this. For district twelve.

I need her to win. Win the gifts and prizes, money and wealth, shower the district with years of food and lovely gifts. District twelve needs this.

"Promise?" I repeat.

"Yes. I promise," she replies. I smile and lean over to give her a kiss on the cheek. She looks surprised and I hurry out the door to meet my father.

He scans me.

"Your pin. It's – "

"Yes, I gave it to Katniss. She is going to wear it in the arena. She promised. It's a token to represent District twelve," my eyes water. I wish I could just tell him. Tell him that I hated the Capitol and that I envy their power to control us and make us beg for them to give us food. We are poor, unstable and hungry. Well, they are. As the Mayor's daughter, I am not hungry. But I think I understand their feelings. I wish I could see their view of the capitol.

I immediately look away from my father to hide the fact I was on the edge of tears. I don't let them roll down my face. I keep them there. I keep my tears there until they disappear.

My father sighs, shakes his head and steps into our new coffee coloured car. It's shiny and beautiful and expensive. If I could use my family's money, I would never spend so much of it on a car.

The Chauffeur closes the door for my father and I slide in to the backseat. The chauffeur closes mine too, and takes his seat in the front.

"Sir, where would you like me to take you?" The chauffeur asks politely. My father tells him to drive back to our house. The Chauffeur presses a few buttons on the screen in front of him and speaks a few words, and in a few moments the car is speeding down the road.

I look out the window. Overgrown grass everywhere and grey skies. Inside the houses we drive past are celebrations with smiling families hugging their children. They are so lucky. And so am I.

I throw myself onto the couch, thoughts whirring in my head as I think about Katniss and what she is doing. How she is feeling. If only I could see her right now. Talk to her. I raise my eyes. The television. I can see her on the television. Cameras will be fixed on her, trained on her face. I can't talk to her, but seeing her is good enough.

I switch on the T.V, and Peeta Mellark, the boy tribute is the first thing I see.

"Switch to Katniss, T.V, let me see her!" I mumble. Then it happens. She is on the train. She looks…bored. Almost. She has her head rested on one hand and her eyes are scanning the train. She looks annoyed by the cameras. I imagine it would be very annoying, having all the cameras looking your way, having to conceal your true emotions. I would never survive during the hunger games.

I let my head fall backwards and I close my eyes tight. Even if the Capitol win, they will never win my mind. And never win my heart. They have done horrible things. They are selfish and greedy. I hate anyone who support them. They are wrong. Completely. That includes my father. I am not sure about my mother.

My eyes flicker back to the T.V. Katniss is still on the train and she is eating a bit. They look like…cookies. She didn't get them from the capitol. I look at them closer, and fortunately, they show a close up on her face as she eats them. I don't see why they would, seeing someone eat isn't that interesting.

They are cookies from Peeta's father's bakery. Warm, soft, delicious and lovely. Why does she have Peeta's cookies? Could he have possibly given some to her? No.

I switch off the T.V and head outside into my garden and sit on the bench. I try to push away the thoughts of Katniss. No luck. It's stressful, trying. Instead, I let them fill my head.

Why is she eating those cookies? How come I am asking this, how come I'm interested? Is that even important? Does Katniss like me? Will she win? Will she be brave enough to kill humans? Will she be attacked? Will she survive?

My eyes open without me knowing they were closed. I head to bed and attempt sleep. Why am I not celebrating? Where are my parents? Too busy, probably. Too busy to care about me.

-x-

The girl wept and stains appeared on her expensive white dress. Thoughts filled her mind. Too many and too ridiculous. But there was doubt and there was possibility and she was never sure what to think of each thought. She confused herself and found herself lying in the grass when she awoke in the morning.

The thoughts were confusing.

Stupid.

Annoying.

But they were possible.

And they haunted her.


End file.
